


Prohibition

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Dancing, Drinking, F/M, Flappers, Flirting, Jonerys, Oral Sex, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 08:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: During the Prohibition era, Daenerys seeks a bit of fun in a speakeasy. Perhaps the stranger Jon can offer her the excitement she’s looking for. A Jonerys AU short story.





	Prohibition

..

By the time Jon arrived, an argument was breaking out.

“I really should be on my way, sir,” a woman spoke, “I mean no trouble at all.”

“That’s what they all say, before they go causing a ruckus,” the officer at her side replied.

The street was dark, and the light rain obscured his view, yet Jon’s eyes caught sight of the woman as he hurried down the sidewalk. She was a petite thing, he thought, clad in a modest, blue coat with fur trimmings. From behind, she had no discerning features, but as she glanced over her shoulder toward him, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

_ She is a beauty, _ Jon thought as his gaze roamed her face, _ no doubt about it. _ Cheeks darkened with rouge, eyes framed with a black smudge, and pouty lips dressed in red. They parted in a surprised sigh as he grabbed at her hand and kissed it, his lips warm against her cold skin.

“Miss!” he said, “You waited for me? That is more than I hoped!” As he looked back at her, he noted a natural pink tint filling her cheeks beneath the powder. “Please, do forgive my lateness.”

“Sir!” the officer barked, “this is highly inappropriate. I was questioning the lady.”

“I heard, and I thank you for your service, but as you can see, it was unnecessary on your part to bother,” Jon spoke at once, the words slipping easily from his lips. As the woman tucked herself behind him, her violet eyes frightened, Jon squeezed her hand in his with an assuring smile.

The officer huffed: “You know this lady?” but he did not await a reply. Instead he shook his head, resting his thumbs at his belt. “Then I suspect you’re both looking for a bit to drink, but I can assure you that your night ends here.”

“Surely you’re not accusing _ my _ lady of such _ vile acts, _ sir?” As Jon straightened up in his grey, woollen suit, the officer’s eyes seemed to take him in from the tips of his brown shoes to his tan homburg. It was, however, as he met Jon’s eyes that his face paled, and the haughty tone of his voice was reduced to a quivering whisper:

“Sir, I apologise.”

The woman at Jon’s side blinked in awe, but Jon’s face remained perfectly neutral. “So you do,” he spoke. “Be on your way. The quicker you go, the more inclined I am to forget this incident ever took place.”

“At once, sir,” the officer spoke, and he took off his hat to nod at the woman, “Miss,” before he trudged away. At first, his steps were long and calculated, but the moment he was halfway down the street, Jon saw him take off in a jog.

“That was most peculiar,” the woman said as she shivered in her coat. She let go of Jon’s hand as she took a step back, cautiously eyeing him. “Almost seemed as if he knew you.”

“It just so happens that I know everyone in New York,” Jon replied. As his hand was now empty, it felt cold, and he pushed it into the pockets of his slacks as he took in the sight of her once more, this time in no hurry. Beneath her cloche, Jon spotted strands of silver hair. “What is your name, miss?”

“I thought you knew everyone,” the woman retorted, but her lips were pulled back in a shy smile. She grabbed at the edge of her coat, keeping it tucked tightly to her neck.

_ She is cold, _ Jon thought, licking his lips, _ The poor thing. _ “Whatever did you do to earn such trouble?” Jon asked.

“He believed I was looking for a speakeasy,” she replied.

“Were you?”

The woman dipped her nose to the fabric of her coat. “I should not speak with strangers,” she said perfectly innocent.

“My name is Jon, miss,” Jon introduced himself.

The woman hesitated. Then, she replied: “I am Daenerys.”

“See, now we are no strangers at all,” Jon said.

“You are slick, I will give you that.”

“And you are new in town.”

The woman, Daenerys, wrinkled her nose as her eyes narrowed. “Wherever did you get that idea from?”

“That officer favours this street. We all have had at least one run in with him,” Jon explained. “We all now walk the back alleys.”

“Who are we?” Daenerys queried.

“Anyone of importance,” Jon spoke vaguely.

“Where do you walk those alleys to?” she pressed on.

Jon smiled: “Are you thirsty, miss? I know just the place,” and he offered her his arm.

He could tell she was in two minds. Her violet eyes skimmed him, and for a few seconds she seemed to take in his face as if trying to determine his intentions. Then, gently, as did she fear to come off as too keen, she placed her hands at his arm as she nodded: “Lead the way.”

* * *

Jazz music filled the air, the lively chatter in the basement not able to drown out the tones from the saxophone players. Ladies dressed in black and gold danced atop the raised centre stage, their dresses shimmering in the light from the heavy chandeliers that decorated the low ceiling. Spread across the room were tables clad in white cloths, every chair claimed by a man or woman dressed in their finest garb, laughing and smoking and drinking to their heart’s content.

Jon felt Daenerys tense the moment they stepped inside, and her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. “Quite the place, isn’t it?” Jon asked.

She only managed to nod.

“Sir! Miss!” A lanky, suited lad immediately hurried to their side as the heavy metal door closed behind them, locking them and the sounds securely underground. “Please, allow me to take your coats.”

Jon handed the man his coat and hat before he turned to Daenerys, finding her still atop the small staircase. She was peeping over the banisters down at the dancing ladies, her ears bright red.

“Miss,” he said and held out his hands.

She shook as if awakened and turned to allow him to slip her coat off her shoulders. At once, it was an intimate act; as the modest cover went off, pale skin was revealed to his eyes, the back of her dress cut in a deep plunge. Once she turned and took off her hat, she was completely different from the mousy girl he’d met outside.

Daenerys was gorgeous in her square, sleeveless dress, the blue deep like the night-sky and the front shimmering with golden beads. Her long, silver hair was pinned back in a wavy bob, and the do kept down with a headband decorated with jewels and feathers.

Jon swallowed as he felt himself drinking down the sight of her, causing her to blush all the way to her exposed collarbone.

“If eyes could speak, I am sure yours would rival the mouth of a sailor,” Daenerys spoke.

Jon smiled as he took her hand and led her down the stairs. Still, despite the glimmer and glitter all around them, he could not look away from her perfectly rounded face. “I must admit - when we met outside, I did not think you would be dressed in this way.”

“Did I not look like a flapper girl to you?” she asked teasingly. “It is true - the style is new to me. I have admired the women in the movies many times. This is the first time I dare showcase myself as one of them.”

“We hardly live in modest times. Why shy away from the chance to shine?”

“That is a long story,” Daenerys spoke, “and you are a stranger still, sir.”

“I won’t press you for details,” Jon promised although it took a certain strength in him to keep his curiosity down. “But at least allow me to buy you a drink. It is what got you in all this trouble after all, is it not?”

As they made their way between the tables, he held her hand still. He had been ready to let go once they had descended the stairs, but Daenerys’ small fingers seemed stuck between his, and she didn’t appear keen to let him go. _ This is a new world to her, _ Jon reminded himself as he glanced over his shoulder back at her. She was looking around with awe as if she’d never dared to imagine such splendour existed. _ She is a stranger here. She needs guidance. _

As they reached the bar, Daenerys tucked herself to his side, her gaze searching the bottles on display. “They have it out so freely here,” she said in a whisper, as was she worried someone would hear them speak. Her eyes shyly sought his. “Do they not worry about raids?”

“They do happen,” Jon admitted, waving for the bartender’s attention, “but this is not a place to be concerned.”

“Whatever makes you say that?” she asked innocently.

Jon smiled a little, but he did not reply. Instead, he ordered himself whiskey whilst Daenerys seemed to hesitate at her own wants. “You’ve heard rumours, haven’t you?” Jon sighed. “Of bootlegged liquor? Don’t worry - this is a fine establishment. You won’t find any moonshine here.”

“Can the taste not be crass?”

“Have it with coke,” he suggested, and he ordered a mixed drink. “It is all the rage now.” Truly, as she sipped her cocktail, the worried glaze to her eyes seemed to mellow, and she licked her lips with eager as she sighed:

“Oh, sir, I do not care whatever this is, even if it kills me. I just want to have more!”

Jon laughed as he drank his own glass of whiskey. “You have been on the dry for a while?”

“My brother is a big supporter of the amendment,” Daenerys spoke, although she barely took time to talk between sipping her drink.

_ At this rate, she will need a second one soon, _ Jon thought, but it amused him. “Is that so?”

“He spends half his coin supporting the prohibition officers.” She sighed: “He believes it is indecent for women to drink. He would much rather see me sit at home all day akin a sculpture, decorating his grand chambers whenever he has guests visiting, for looks but not for talk.”

“He sounds a bore,” Jon commented, and Daenerys laughed at his words.

“He wishes for me to be one too, but-” She paused, her eyes seeking the stage as a lady stepped out. She was tall and dark, her black hair falling in curly locks to her shoulders, and her dress - golden, glittery - framed her body elegantly. As she began singing, the women seated at the tables stood up at once, begging the men to dance with them. Daenerys too started moving in earnest, her shoulders wriggling and her knees jiggling on the spot as the music rammed up. “Who is she?” she asked with a smile.

Jon furrowed his brows. “Wherever did you come from?”

“We moved cross-country to be here. I am only just settling in society,” Daenerys admitted, her voice soaked in embarrassment as she noted Jon’s expression. “Did I speak in err?”

“That is Missandei,” he said, gesturing at the jazz musician, “She is known nationwide. Or so I thought. Every speakeasy in New York begs for her performance, but it is here at Blue Rose that she likes it the best.”

“How come?” Daenerys asked, her gaze slipping between the singer and Jon.

Jon smiled: “Because here, men and women oft meet and become less stranger and more lovers.”

At his words, Daenerys blushed bright red, and she emptied her drink as an excuse to stay silent. As the last drop of alcohol made its way past her lips, she put the glass down and grabbed at Jon’s waistcoat. “Please, dance with me,” she said, her boldness surprising him.

“At first, you barely speak your name, and now you want to dance?” Jon asked.

“You made me speak of my brother,” she said, her voice sorry, “and it reminded me why I am here - sir, _ Jon, _ understand this; he is not aware that I have left home. He is out on business, and I must take this chance to do all that I cannot normally. I want to drink, and I want to dance, and I want to touch someone who wants to touch me.” Her hands slipped to his shirt, her red nails dancing across his white collar as she shyly looked him in the eye and asked: “Do you want to touch me too, Jon?”

Jon took in a deep breath. Then he grabbed her at the waist and pulled her to the dancefloor.

* * *

They did the tango and waltz, and the lindy hop and the foxtrot. By the time Missandei gave way for another singer, Jon’s forehead was glistening with sweat, and he had undone the first two buttons of his shirt to allow in some cold.

Daenerys gasped for air at his side, her voice heavy with laughter as she spoke: “One more?”

“I admit defeat,” Jon said, his voice hoarse. He settled on a barstool, waving for a simple glass of water for both of them. “For someone who doesn’t frequent town, you dance akin a professional.”

“I may not frequent town, but I am expected to dance with suitors,” Daenerys spoke.

“Suitors?” Jon repeated surprised. “Are you in the market for a husband?”

“Aren’t all women?” she asked, but her voice was strained with annoyance. As she sipped her iced water, her eyes seemed distant. “My brother wishes to see me wed to a man of status. For him, it is a way in the company door.”

“Sounds like you are a mere tool to him,” Jon noted.

“It is the truth,” Daenerys replied.

As he watched her, he realised there was a certain sadness to her violet eyes. He did not see it earlier when she was full of excitement and hesitation all at once, taking in the basement which offered any and all things a person could want on a night out. But now it was apparent as she spoke and realised that time was running out for her. What was to him a simple tale was to her reality; the brother was one she had to return to, and his strict worldview one to which she had to conform.

“I am sorry,” he spoke at once. “I wish I could help.”

“You already have,” she said, her lips tucking back in a smile as she placed her hand atop his arm. “Thank you for bringing me here. I would have been lost without a guide. When the officer first stopped me, I thought - how will I explain this to my brother?” She shook her head, the feathers in her band swaying at the movement. “You have given me more in one night than he has in my lifetime.”

“Surely that cannot be true,” Jon spoke, but he immediately knew it to be so. There was no jest in her eyes, especially not as she stepped closer, the hem of her dress brushing to his knees.

“Jon,” she said, her voice a whisper, and her eyes peeked at him from between her lashes, “I spoke in earnest earlier. I came to drink, which I have, and I thank you for it. And I came to dance, which I have too, and once more I give you my thanks. But I also came-”

“-to touch,” Jon remembered, his cheeks reddening. The closer she stepped, the warmer he got. So much so that he could feel sweat trickling down his nape. _ She is so beautiful, _ he thought as he took in her face, her body, her hands - reaching for him, holding onto his vest, dragging him closer. _ She is everything I like in a woman, and more. _

As her lips hovered his, Jon swallowed: “Daenerys, _m__iss _ \- it would be inappropriate of me.”

“I am asking nothing of you,” she assured him. “I do not expect you to wed me for a dance.”

“It is not that,” Jon said. His heartbeat had quickened. He could feel the blood rushing through his body. “Please - do not do something you could regret.”

And as she looked at him, he felt it in his heart - regret. Perhaps he should not have spoken, for he wanted her too, even more when she pulled away, her gaze seeking the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“I am the one to apologise,” he spoke, pushing two fingers into his collar as he dragged it out. It was as if the fabric was closing around his throat, making it impossible for him to breathe. “Please, if there’s anything I can do-”

“Please drive me home,” Daenerys said. “If you have the time?”

Jon nodded. “Of course,” he said. “It would be my pleasure.”

* * *

_This was not the kind of pleasure I expected._

As they rode down the wet streets of New York, they didn’t speak. At first, Jon feared he had upset Daenerys beyond repair, and that she would never again dare to go to town on her own. But sooner, he worried he had corrupted her mind, for as he turned a corner, her hands were suddenly at his groin, unzipping his trousers.

“Miss!” Jon grabbed a tight hold of the steering wheel as her move surprised him. He had to take care not to skid on the rainy streets. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Repaying kindness,” she spoke as she reached her hand into his trousers to take a hold of his cock. As her small fingers wrapped around his hot member, she smiled at once: “Ah! Seems like I chose the right method.”

Jon was ashamed to realise that he was hard at once. It did not take many strokes of her hand before he was squirming in his seat, fighting to keep his eyes on the traffic and not on her naughty face as she watched him closely. “Daenerys,” he said.

“Jon,” she replied boldly.

“Did I get you drunk?”

“On one drink? Hardly.”

“I don’t want you to think you have to-”

“-then stop thinking and let me do as I please.” With that, her head dipped down, and, as Jon sped through a crossing, her lips wrapped around his cock and started sucking.

Her mouth was small and wet, and it fought to take in as much of him as possible. Jon groaned and pushed his shoulders back against the seat, his eyes blinking in pleasure. _ This is highly inappropriate, _ he thought. _ I left the basement to ensure we would behave, but now she has taken control on her own. _ Truly, her licking and nibbling and sucking was all of her own making, his hands steady on the wheel. But the more she wetted him, the more she moaned around him, making vibrations of pleasure shoot down his cock, the more he wanted to pull over and take her.

_ She knows, _ he thought, his toes trapped in his shoes wriggling. _ She is testing me. _ The mousy, good girl he’d saved from the officer was long gone. The excited, live-tonight-or-not-at-all woman who was now settling in his lap? She was new. _ And I like her. _

Jon bit his inner cheek as he tried to find his way to the outskirts of the city. The address she had given him was familiar, at least he knew the neighbourhood, yet it became more vague as they drove on. The more of his cock she managed to stuff between her lips, the less he thought at all, until his mind seemed to become a blank slate.

He was reduced to a moaning man, one hand on the steering wheel and the other messing up Daenerys’ neat hairdo, jerking into her greedy mouth as she blew him with eagerness.

It was then, as he sped through another crossing and heard a shout for him to pull over, that he was reduced to a man of worry.

The officer was at his window before Daenerys had a chance to pull away. As a gloved hand knocked on the glass, she jumped up, her lipstick smeared to her chin and her eyes opened wide in shock. But Jon was the one at more of a loss - as the officer helped himself to the handle and swung the door open, his cock was still hanging out of his trousers. Under the officer’s watchful eye, he tucked himself away with reddened cheeks.

“This is really not necessary,” he said with annoyance whilst Daenerys looked so ashamed she could melt into a puddle on the seat.

The officer shun a flashlight between Jon’s groin and Daenerys’ face. His own scrounged up in disgust. “Having a bit of fun, are we?” he asked. “I should remind you that prostitution is illegal.” He sniffed in, his eyes narrowing: “And so is alcohol.”

Jon grimaced, knowing that the whiskey on his lips was strong, and he shook his head at the man. “This is really not necessary,” he repeated and glanced at him.

As the officer shun the light in his face, causing him to squirm, the guy blinked and his lips parted in surprise: “Sir!”

For the second time that night, Daenerys looked on in awe as another officer paled before Jon and bowed his head.

“I am so sorry, sir.”

“Just doing your job,” Jon assured him casually, although the annoyance never left his voice. He dragged at his shirt once more, trying to cool himself down. “Be on your way now and we shall not speak of this again.”

“Yes, sir,” the officer nodded, before glancing at Daenerys, “Miss” - and just like that, he backed away and disappeared into the night, his car taking off with speed.

Jon shut the door again and breathed in deeply, his hands on his face as he wiped off sweat. “Well,” he spoke, shortly pausing before glancing back at Daenerys. “That went okay.”

“This is more than just knowing the people of New York,” Daenerys spoke quietly. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in to take another look at Jon’s face. “Who _ are _ you?”

Jon, averting her eyes, smiled shyly. “Well, it might just be that I do know all of New York,” he spoke, “well, at least the important folks.”

“Don’t tell me you’re part of the mob,” she gasped.

Jon quickly shook his head, but he was laughing. “That would be something!” he said. He then, as Daenerys sat perfectly still, her eyes still bathed in concern, turned to face her with a sigh. “No, I am not part of the mob,” he assured her. “I am part of the police.”

Daenerys’ jaw dropped. “_You’re an officer of the law?_”

“You could say that. Officer,” Jon shrugged, “_agent._”

Her eyes widened more, and she glanced between his groin and his face. “I am _ so sorry, _officer,” she said, her voice honest, but it was when they looked into each other’s eyes that a giggle escaped her lips.

“Please don’t call me that,” Jon smiled wryly. “It makes me sound so dirty.”

“I can’t believe it,” she continued. “Whatever is an officer doing in a bar? Unless-” and at this the giggling stopped as she paled. “You’re not looking to _ arrest me, _ are you?”

Jon shook his head with a grimace. “Oh, miss, you really are new in town. Most officers don’t care much for the amendment that your brother fought so dearly for. We just want to have a drink and a dance, and let people do the same.”

Daenerys seemed to relax a little at this statement, but she still eyed him with suspicion. “So you’re not arresting me?” she asked again, uncertain.

“No,” Jon assured her plainly. “Miss, I am an honoured member of the Blue Rose because I protect the Blue Rose. I would not step foot into that basement if the owner did not know to trust me. I ensure they can keep serving the good men and women of New York, and they ensure I get a good drink on the house every now and again.”

“That’s bribery,” Daenerys said.

“I see it as doing good for the city. Did you not just have a good eve yourself?”

“Still bribery,” she repeated, but there was something else to her tone of voice. It was not disdain - rather, it was almost a sense of being _ impressed. _

Still, Jon flushed. “Let me take you home,” he mumbled as he started up the motor again.

* * *

As they reached Daenerys’ house, the sun had started to rise.

For a silent moment, they stayed in the car, side by side. Daenerys had wiped the lipstick off her chin, and Jon had calmed himself enough so that his cock was no longer throbbing. Still, it itched in him to get home and finish himself off, so he cleared his throat as he turned to her:

“Miss-” he started, but before he could say anything else, she turned to him and said:

“You will take me dancing every Friday night.”

At her demand, Jon blinked, and he let out a hollow laugh. “You must be mad!”

“My brother knows your bosses, I am sure of it,” she said. “I told you, he has paid a pretty sum toward getting the amendment through. I don’t know all the men he speaks with, but I have danced with my fair share of politicians. If I tell him of your bribery, he will get you down.”

Jon flushed at her words, and his eyes grew angry. “I take you dancing, I buy you a drink - and this is how you repay me?”

“You led me on!” she said. “You never told me you were an agent!”

“If I had, maybe you wouldn’t have come with me!”

“So you wanted to dance with me,” she concluded, “that’s why you kept it a secret. So why not agree? In this way, you can dance with me every week!”

“Why should your brother agree?” Jon asked. He reminded himself of how she’d described him - as an old-fashioned fellow who considered women less human and more property.

At his question, Daenerys smirked. “Because you’re an agent,” she said, “which is exactly the kind of man he’d see me wed to. A man of power and influence.” She reached over and grabbed him by the cheek, and Jon was so shocked at her move that he simply leaned in.

As she placed a soft, wet kiss on his lips, he didn’t even question it. Instead, he gave in, letting her tongue push between his lips as she claimed his mouth, tasted his whiskey, sensed who he was. Then, at once she pulled back, leaving him cold.

Leaving him wanting more.

“Next Friday,” she said as she exited the car.

Jon, still in a haze, just stared at her. “Next Friday,” he mumbled.

Before the door shut behind her, she smiled wryly: “And then maybe I can finish that job I started.” She popped her thumb between her lips as she gave it a suck, slipping it free with a loud pop.

_ She has grown bold in one eve, _ Jon thought, though he was sure he saw her blush bright red the moment she turned from him and walked to the house. _ Imagine how brash she’ll be after a few weeks of dancing? _ The thought alone made his cock stir, and he sped out of there, hand on his groin, as he imagined what their next meeting would be like.

**Author's Note:**

> So we wanted to do a 1920s theme, and prohibition definitely came to mind. Hope you liked it? Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the art! It is very sexy if I do say so myself!


End file.
